


untitled

by Tim (boywonder)



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-15
Updated: 2006-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/Tim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it hits him like a hundred pounds of Kryptonite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

"Give me an hour. I'll be there, promise."  
"Why that long? Come _on_, Rob, you _promised_."  
"Just Tim is fine, Kon. And I know I did. I'll be there in an _hour_." There is a no-nonsense Bat-authority in Tim's voice. It means, "This is how it is and _fuckall_ if you say otherwise."  
Kon is going to yell into the phone, maybe demand an explanation, but it's too late. Tim already hung up. Kon slams the phone back into the cradle angrily. He has no choice but to go to the bar and wait for Tim to show up, if he even _will_. He storms off, only remembering as an afterthought to make sure no one is following him. He doesn't really feel like explaining himself to Cassie, or really _any_ of the others. Tim is good at making up lies right away - but _he_ would have to think harder about it. And it's a hassle he doesn't need on top of his annoyance at Tim's half-broken promises.

* * *

  
Tim looks in the mirror, making sure everything is right. He's locked all the locks on his door. Sure, Bart can vibrate through it if he wants to, but he's betting that Bart won't _dare_. He hasn't yet, all this time.  
He puts the sunglasses on, as a finishing touch. Sure, it's dark out, but he's had the lenses changed out with starlight ones - he can see _just fine_ in the dark with these sunglasses on.  
He's never had much trouble sneaking out of the Tower. Tonight proves to be no exception. He's been keeping tabs on the other Titans for the better part of the evening, making sure they won't see him. They know that he and Kon had talked about "a guy's night out" earlier. Gar had dogged them about it, teasing that his green skin didn't make him any less "one of the guys." And he mentioned that he's not old like Vic - that he _gets_ them. Bart  
had been blessedly absent from the conversation, or the plans would have fallen through completely. Bart was harder to keep out of things than Gar. Besides, Tim knows Gar is all jokes, anyway. In the end, the green skinned boy had told them he had plans with Vic anyway, and told them to have fun in a way that Tim hadn't entirely liked.  
It isn't that he and Kon are _hiding_ their relationship. It's more like a don't-ask-don't tell situation. But Gar Logan isn't one for subtlety, and he'll take any chance he can to crack a joke. It makes Tim crazy fifty percent of the time, even though he's gotten used to it.  
He shakes his head at the thought of Beast Boy, and pushes the thoughts away. He digs a piece of paper out of his pocket and confirms an address. It will take about thirty minutes to get to the place they'd agreed on. He has plenty of time to make sure everything will run as smoothly as he wants it to. One last look in a hand-held mirror and he decides it's good enough. He puts the mirror away and walks away from the Tower entirely, praying he's gotten away cleanly. It would be hard to lie his way out of any questions the others would ask if they saw him. Especially right now.

* * *

Kon looks at his watch for the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. Tim is _late_. Of course. Only by about three minutes, but Kon isn't exactly one for patience. He orders another soda - cursing himself for not being old enough to drink or smart enough to have a fake ID - and shifts impatiently in his seat.  
He's come here with Tim before. It's really just a sports bar, the kind where their age is never questioned, as long as they don't order liquor. There are always quite a few other teenagers mixed in with the not-so-well-to-do adult crowd, cheering for the sport of the moment blaring out of the TVs in the room. They've never _really_ been noticed.  
Tim is always early or late - never _right on time_ like a normal person. Kon guesses he'd be _right on time_ for Batman.  
_Stupid Bat_, Kon thinks, his annoyance growing with his impatience. _Who the hell does he think he IS, anyway?_  
It takes him another full minute before he notices a girl staring at him. He'd noticed her when he first walked in, but he'd been too annoyed at Tim to pay attention to her. But his girl-radar could only be off for _so long_, whether he was pissed at Tim or not. The girl has blonde hair, loose and curling just to her shoulders. _God_ but he loves blondes. She's wearing a red dress...no - not a dress. A skirt and top that come together in the middle enough to _look_ like a dress. Almost seamless. Almost like..._no_.  
He lets his eyes slide up her form. She's not looking at him at the moment, though Kon doesn't exactly have the taste to care if she is or not. The skirt clings to her like a second skin. Her legs are..._perfect_. She could be a cheerleader. Maybe she is.  
She looks back over at him and smiles. He notices the sunglasses on her head and thinks how weird it is. But people in San Francisco are always weird. Hell, isn't he, himself, weird? A clone of Superman and...well. Yeah. He's weird. So he forgets the sunglasses.  
The girl says something Kon isn't listening to, to the bartender, and turns towards him. He puts on his best "I'm the hottest guy in the place" face and sits up a little straighter. He thinks of how Tim would glare at him for "drooling over girls" and smiles to himself. If Tim wants to stand him up, he might as well have _some_ sort of fun. And he's _Superboy_. What girl could resist him?  
Apparently not the hot chick in the sexy red almost-dress.  
"Hi there, sugar," he says. She has a slight southern accent. There's something intoxicatingly familiar about her. But, well, a lot of girls seem alike, in the end. At least to Kon.  
"Hi," he says. His mouth feels dry.  
She looks down at the seat across from Kon. "Mind if I sit down?"  
She has the most incredible green eyes.  
Kon lifts one corner of his mouth and tells her, "Go ahead."  
She smiles and sits down. Her skirt shifts up her thigh slightly as she does. Kon feels himself staring and doesn't care.  
A waiter appears and sets a drink down in front of the girl. It smells like alcohol. Kon raises an eyebrow at her. No _way_ she's more than seventeen.  
She laughs lightly, catching the expression on his face. "Don't judge a book by it's cover, sugar," she tells him.  
He laughs, though in his ears it sounds uncertain. He hopes she doesn't think that.  
If she does, she doesn't say anything about it.  
She talks, in that voice, the voice of the girl-next-door in a porno, a voice that has been proven in many such pornos to turn _any_ man on. It's certainly working _magic_ on Kon.  
Kon isn't paying attention to the conversation, though he's apparently taking part in it. She talks so easily, and he just finds himself talking back. As if he's known her for _years_. As if it's the easiest thing in the world.  
Halfway through the conversation he can feel the erection pushing against his jeans. He can't really say what triggered it. Maybe nothing did. He hopes she won't ask him to stand up. She doesn't.  
As they talk, she moves closer to him. He tries to look down her dress, thinking he's being smooth about it. He isn't. She doesn't let him, but she's not put off, either.  
They're sitting side-by-side now.  
Her hand is on his face. He can feel her _studying_ him.  
"Say, sugar, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"  
He swallows hard but doesn't answer.  
"Have you been on the tv, maybe?" she purrs.  
His grin is back. "Maybe."  
"Maybe..." She traces one well-manicured hand down his jaw, follows the line of his throat. Her tongue runs along the line of his ear. His eyes are closed. She traces the shape of the _S_ that isn't there on his chest.  
His eyes fly open again and he stares at her. At the smirk on her face. And it hits him like a hundred pounds of Kryptonite. He can feel himself getting angry, getting _furious_, and maybe he'll burn everyone here with heat vision and hate himself tomorrow...no.  
Her mouth covers his. She slides her hand down and rests it on the bulge in his pants. He can't help but groan into her mouth, grateful for the noise around them. This kind of thing happens in the dark corners in bars all the time. He thinks he'll die before she pulls away. That smirk isn't on her face now, and then he isn't sure...maybe it never was.

"I knew I'd seen you somewhere," she tells him.  
"I'm a pretty memorable guy," he says.  
"Mmn. My name's Alison."  
_Why does that sound so...familiar..._  
She's kissing him again. And her hand traces along his erection, even through his jeans. And now he's not sure of anything anymore.  
All too soon she stands up.  
He just _stares_ at her. She looks back over her shoulder. "You coming, sugar?"  
_I almost just did_, he thinks. He manages to compose himself enough to nod at her.  
"You bet I am!" The enthusiasm in his voice is too much, but he doesn't care. He leaves enough money on the table for both of their drinks, and probably more than that, but all he's focusing on is..._Alison's_...ass, swaying slightly as she walks away. She doesn't look back at him.  
The car she's driving is as bright as her clothes, and as hot as she is. It's a convertible, but the top is up. There's no point in asking her questions about the car. To hell with the car.  
She drives faster than any chick has any business driving - faster than anyone who isn't part of the Flash family really has any business driving - but she knows what she's doing and they don't get pulled over. She keeps her eyes on the road and he keeps his eyes on _her_. On her perfect legs. On the way her skirt is up almost enough to be obscene.  
The parking lot they pull into isn't as dark as Kon might have expected.  
"Where are we?" he asks before he can think better of it.  
"Just a motel, sugar."  
He doesn't say anything. He just follows her lead, getting out of the car and trailing after her, as if he's Super_dog_ and not Super_boy_.  
She already has the room key ready. He doesn't bother questioning her. He _knows_. And he's sure that she knows that he knows.  
She closes and locks the door behind them.  
He fights back the urge to grab her and plunge his tongue into her mouth. So she grabs him and pulls him down. It's _her_ tongue in _his_ mouth. She doesn't taste like anything but _hot_. He moans into her mouth again.  
She turns away from him. He makes a noise of protest, but she smiles over her shoulder.  
"Back in just a second, sugar," she tells him. She's heading for the bathroom.  
He nods at her. The door closes, and he all but collapses on the bed. He has to _seriously_ fight the urge to jack off right there. This might be the most erotic thing that ever happened. And the most infuriating.  
She spends a million years in the bathroom and never comes out.  
When the door opens, it's Tim standing there, Tim in a red dress, Tim with green eyes. The smirk he _knew_ he'd seen earlier is plastered all over Tim's face.  
Kon wants to hit him hard enough to break his stupid pretty jaw. But of course he won't do any such thing.  
Instead, he _flies_ across the distance between them, covering Tim's mouth with his own, burying one hand in Tim's too-messy hair.  
Alison wasn't wearing lipstick, so Tim isn't either. Which is probably best, or it would be smeared all over the place.  
"I hate you more than I hate anyone," Kon hisses at Tim before he goes back to kissing him.  
Tim manages to wrench himself away long enough to say, "I hope so."  
Kon bites down on Tim's tongue hard enough to draw blood. He practically crushes Tim against him, grinding his hips against Tim's stomach. This time _Tim_ moans into _his_ mouth, and he's forgotten all about Alison, the girl who Tim wasn't.  
_Alison. Like Alvin. It sounds so...fake_, he thinks. He feels his..._angerhatepassion..._grow stronger and he grinds his hips into Tim again.  
Tim wrenches away again and looks up into Kon's eyes with those stupid green contacts. Kon's only seen Tim's eyes _maybe_ twice. When he first took off that mask, he'd seen them. When he'd tracked Tim down in Gotham when he "quit" being Robin, he'd seen them. Blue and intense and too amazing for words. Since then, he'd seen them only through the lenses of the mask, when Tim let him. _Robin's_ eyes. Not Tim's. It's not the same thing.  
And now these stupid contacts. _Green_. He hates them and doesn't say so.  
He finally pulls away, shoving Tim back hard enough that he has to catch himself on the door frame.  
"You really that pissed at me, Kon?" Tim asks, his voice level. _Robin's_ voice. There's only a subtle difference, but Kon knows what it is. Probably not as well as Nightwing or Batman knows. But he _knows_ all the same.  
"I fucking _hate_ you," Kon says, but he's lost all conviction. It's all in his pants. The whole world is, or so it seems.  
Tim shrugs. Kon's eyes catch the red of Alison's dress on Tim's body and he feels his erection throbbing. He can _hear_ his blood racing.  
He pulls Tim close and rips off the too-feminine shirt. He leaves the skirt. Tim's perfect legs couldn't look better than they do in that skirt.  
They're kissing again. Kon buries his hand in Tim's hair again and slides his free hand down Tim's chest. He pinches one nipple too hard. He hears Tim moan, tastes it in his mouth. He can feel Tim try to pull away, but he won't let him. Tim digs Alison's fake nails into his shoulders and he tightens his hand in Tim's hair.  
Tim moans, but lets him.  
Kon pulls away and whispers roughly into Tim's ear, "I'm going to fuck you, Rob,"  
He feels something indescribable work through Tim's body. Tension, passion, something he can't name. His cock throbs in response.  
"And if you tell me no, I'm going to fuck you harder," he says.  
"Sadist," Robin tells him.  
"Cocktease," he replies, almost growling the word.  
"The best," Robin says. He isn't looking at his face, but he can _hear_ that fucking smirk. He hates it and loves it all at once. He knows Robin won't give up his control quite so easily. He's a _Bat_. But he's close. Dangerously close.  
It's all been working up to this. He doesn't know since how long. He remembers suddenly, how it had been, seeing Tim cry through Robin's mask. He'd seen it more than once now, alone in one of their rooms, Tim clinging to him, screaming his name, from behind that mask that wasn't hiding anything.  
Tim is all but broken, and Robin is the glue holding him together, in a way. That's how it seems. And giving up his control like this is part of that, in some way that Kon doesn't understand. Maybe Tim himself doesn't understand that. But if it will make Robin stop crying Tim's invisible tears, just for a little while, Kon will do _anything_.  
Not like there's nothing in it for him. Not like he isn't pissed at his best friend for the stunt at the bar. Not like he isn't very _consciously_ pushing Robin toward the obviously overused bed of the motel.  
He pushes Tim down onto his back and goes back to kissing him. He slides the hand that isn't buried in his best friend's hair up his leg, pushing the skirt up. He slides his hand underneath Tim, and thrills at what he finds under the skirt. He's been vaguely expecting there to be nothing there - but there _is_. It's _almost_ nothing, though - it's a goddamn _thong_. He can feel the thin string at the side with his thumb. He can feel Tim's ass, bare for all intents and purposes. This is the hottest thing in the universe to Kon. He feels again like he might come in his jeans if he doesn't do something _yesterday_.  
He kneels up and looks down at Tim - at _Robin_ \- hungrily. He stars at the bunched up skirt, at the near-nakedness underneath it. The way the skirt is sitting, he can tell Robin is as hard as he was. It's sick, maybe, that he loves the image. He can live with being sick. He can blame Robin for it.  
There's no infuriating smirk on Robin's face now. There's only a version of the same expression Kon can feel on his own face - _need_.  
"I thought you were going to fuck me," Robin says. It almost sounds like he's _asking_ for it.  
"I am," Kon says, impressed with the authority in his voice.  
"So do it," Robin says. It's not an order, but it's close.  
"When I'm good and ready," Kon says, letting his anger rise a notch. He doesn't feel like taking orders from a _Bat_. Not right now, anyway.  
"You're not yet?" Robin is teasing him. Kon doesn't always hate it. But right now he _despises_ it.  
He reaches up and grabs the thong, ripping it off of his friend's body. He hears the strings snap, and sees the tiniest wince happen. The elastic must have snapped Tim's skin. Kon can't be bothered to care about that.  
He drops the ruined underwear and moves his hand, wrapping it around Tim's cock under the skirt.  
Robin moans and arches into the touch. "Kon..."  
Kon moves his hand, squeezing _slightly_ too hard. He watches Robin's maddening _green_ eyes close, feels his hips move in time with his hand. His gaze never leaves his friend's face. He watches him come, feels the muscles tense, feels the thick liquid cover his hand, spilling onto the inside of the skirt.  
He rips that off, too, finally.  
The green eyes open again, and he can't tell if it's Robin's voice or Tim's that comes from between his friend's lips.  
"Kon. Need you. Want you. God, please, Kon..."  
He can hear Tim's tears in the voice and it scares him. The rage and the hate flood out of him, and there is only need - need to feel Tim, need to feel Robin, need to make those horrible terrifying tears go away forever.  
He uses the hand that's slick from come to push into the other boy's body. With his other hand he tears off his own shirt. Tim arches into his hand again, his body begging in the way his voice won't. Kon pushes a second finger in. A third. He's sure they'll be thrown out of the motel with Tim screaming like that, but he doesn't give a damn - the need is too great now. And better to let Tim scream here, where only strangers will hear, than at the Tower, where they'll get nothing but weird looks from everyone but Bart for the rest of the weekend.  
He moves his hand faster. Maybe it's too much. Tim doesn't tell him to stop, though, and he doesn't. He'd said he _wouldn't_. If Tim tells him to stop, he'll keep his word - he'll go harder.  
Finally he pulls his hand away. Shaking, he unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall, along with his boxers. He moves as fast as he can, not wanting to hear Robin beg like that, not wanting Tim to cry those damn tears again.  
He's inside Tim all at once. He can hear him scream again. He moves, pulling Tim up with him, lifting him. Tim's legs wrap around his waist, and he all but clings to Kon's chest, burying his face in his neck, muffling his screams against Kon's skin.  
Kon holds onto to him, almost too tightly, thrusting up, moving so Tim isn't the only one making noise like that. Kon doesn't scream, but he's loud enough. And Tim's done enough of that for both of them, even against Kon's neck.  
He can hear his name in those screams. Desperation. Desire. Need. And, blessedly, no tears. He buries his own face in Tim's hair and moves his hips harder, faster. This time he doesn't notice the fake nails digging into his shoulders, the thin trails of blood they leave there. There is no Alison, no distinct Tim-Robin difference, just him, just Tim, just _them_.  
They both come twice before they finally fall into the bed. Kon lays on his back with Tim on top of him. He hasn't pulled out yet. Why bother? Maybe they aren't done.  
The tears come, then, and there's no force in the universe that might have stopped their onslaught.  
"Oh, god, Kon, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."  
Kon can't figure out what the hell Tim's apologizing for. But, then, his brain is pretty fuzzy...  
"I shouldn't fuck with you like that, I shouldn't...I..."  
Kon isn't really good at the whole comfort thing, and seeing _Robin_ cry is one of the most unnerving things ever, no matter how many times it's happened. It's been like this for at _least_ the last three or four times. They'll fuck harder than is good for them and then some part of Tim will break again, and he'll be a crying wreck in Kon's arms, just like now, blaming himself for who-knew-what this time.  
Kon just holds him and lets him cry, feeling the fear inside himself and ignoring it as best he can.  
Tim finally moves, letting Kon slide out of him, and tries to roll away. Kon won't let him.  
"Tim, please, don't be sorry, I'm not really mad, I don't really hate you," he whispers, not really sure what he's saying, or if it's even remotely close to the right thing.  
"Kon..." is all Tim can manage.  
_I love you, Rob, do you know that?_ Kon can't say.  
_ I want to love you, Kon_, Tim can't say back.  
Finally, the tears stop and Tim really _does_ pull away.  
"We have to be out of here in two hours."  
"...what?" Kon asks.  
"I didn't reserve the room for the whole night. And I have to take the car back in the morning." The words sound hollow in Kon's ears.  
Kon pulls Tim back down and pulls his face around so they're eye to eye, as much as they can be through those fucking contacts. "So we have two hours, then," Kon says.  
Robin raises an eyebrow at him.  
"No one said I was done," Kon says. The words sound like a threat.  
Tim can't find the words to say, for once. He stares into Kon's eyes from behind the mask he isn't wearing, then kisses him, forcing his tongue into Kon's mouth.  
They don't need to speak. Two hours isn't long enough as it is - why clutter up the time with words?  
This time when they finish, Tim's tears are nowhere to be found.  
When they finally sneak back into the tower (Tim thought to bring extra clothes and leave them in the car - Kon has to go back shirtless), they both sleep in Tim's bed.  
When Bart comes screaming at the speed of sound through the room at the buttcrack of dawn, he doesn't bother asking them any questions. Bart _never_ asks them any questions, especially ones he thinks he knows the answers to.

* * *  


The next weekend when they're at the Tower, Cassie storms into the room where Kon is busy _not_ doing his homework. She walks up to him and smacks him as hard as she can manage - which, all things considered, is pretty damn hard.  
"What the _fuck_!?" he demands.  
She drops some little scrap of fabric in his lap, smacks him again, and storms back out. Kon rubs his face, and picks up the object, swimming in confusion.  
He recognizes the underwear he'd torn off of Tim last weekend right away. His mouth works, but he can't find the right words of rage to yell.  
When he looks after Cassie, he sees Robin standing in the doorway with that fucking _smirk_ on his face. He almost finds the right words, but Robin is gone, wordlessly, as he always is.  
_Fucking Bat_, Kon fumes, stomping off to his room. There's a message on his computer screen.  
_Hate me again sometime soon._  
It's signed with Robin's signature "R" and nothing more.  
Kon grins through his rage and prays for night to fall faster.  
He wonders what amazing lie Rob will think up to explain the screaming.  



End file.
